


the breath and the power

by nicasio_silang



Category: Supernatural, The Bible
Genre: Gen, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-09
Updated: 2012-05-09
Packaged: 2017-11-05 01:15:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/400839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicasio_silang/pseuds/nicasio_silang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If the Word was God, then angels were the language.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the breath and the power

If the Word was God, then angels were the language. Vowels, diphthongs. Glottal stops. Gabriel to Muhammad one sura at a time.

The _logos_ gave a master plan, composed of every letter. Each sound made flesh. 

Sibilant sinews, a skeleton of syllables. I for an eye, _emet_ in each tooth. Crafted like a paragraph, body of a child. Every child's body made of

holy holy holy

The Word made flesh made

a man,  
with his hand against everyone,  
and everyone's hand against him;  
and he shall live at odds with all his  
kin.

Every child's body made few of days and full of trouble. Brimming with the song, singing in haste, crafting language to speak in idiom. Folding noise into space and writing it down. Laying them low, each child of the Word, each child in the dirt wrapped in sentences and skin.

Multiply your prayers. Cover your hands in blood. Plead for the widow. 

The Word will not listen, or wash your hands clean. But crack yourself open, an orifice, a c from an o. See the bend in your body, know the hands lay heavy on you. The taste of _terribile et fascinans_ thick between your parted lips.

Listen, arise, come away, and sustain me. I am reduced to gasping, a breath bereft of language. My beloved is to me

a cluster of consonants  
in the vineyards of En-gedi.  
The beams of our house are El's,  
our rafters are mine.


End file.
